


This Is Where I Sleep

by UglyTunaSandwich



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Love, Marriage, Self-Insert, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UglyTunaSandwich/pseuds/UglyTunaSandwich
Summary: Love is endless
Kudos: 12





	This Is Where I Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lettersinpetals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersinpetals/gifts).



You don’t remember the first time you fell in love with him.

Maybe it was soft smiles and kind eyes that captured your heart. Perhaps moments shared under the night sky after a day of training. Was it the time you whispered your confession that made it real? You’ll never know. It didn’t matter now. You’ll fall in love for the first time every day by his side. 

The heart and mind can be such fickle things. Though when in agreeance, life itself seems to fall in place. It’s terrifying to admit love. To yourself. To the boy sitting close enough to hear your breathing and watch your chest rise and fall in the dead of night. 

He’s quiet for a moment. Usually your mind’s eye would read his thoughts, finishing sentences he never started. But tonight, they were locked by your crippling anxiety and the fear of the unknown. Guarded by the What Ifs. 

Time stretches as he chooses his words carefully, something he’s always done. A characteristic you admire about him in every moment that wasn’t this very one. You want to scream. Yell even. 

_ Just tell me! _

The better of yourself and a lack of courage keep your lips sealed.  _ In his own time.  _

Warmth envelopes the hand you used to lightly pluck the grass. His hand dwarfs your own as he brings it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on your knuckle. When your eyes meet, you realize that that was all you need.

The heart and mind become less fickle, certain in what you want. You want your parents to like him. 

You go over dos, don’ts, your mother’s one pet peeve only known by close friends and family, etc. His face remains stoic as always, holding secrets from the outside world. But the slight wrinkle between his eyebrows, tenseness of his jaw, and bouncing knee give him away. 

“Hey, you’ll be fine,” you assure him, just as much of yourself. He’d better be, because if not, you’d already planned to run away under different names. He’d never agree to that, but he was worth it. 

You put one of your favorite songs on repeat for (almost) the rest of the way there. He doesn’t mind. 

There were a few things you hadn’t expected. One was for your dad to like him. Another was for your  _ mom  _ to like him. The last was to become a step-child in your own home. 

You watch as he traitorously taste-tests your mother’s miso and develops inside jokes with your dad. You fall to the wayside as your parents are enthralled by a potential son. You pout and give sly comments here and there. But your heart and mind are in agreement, despite your contrasting behavior. 

You are happy. 

Happy is not enough to describe what you’re feeling. Elated? Overjoyed? Were there words for it? Who knew? How does one describe the love of their life asking to be by their side forever? Always?

If that had a word, there definitely wasn’t one for the feeling you got when you finally said “I do.”

You remember the look in his eyes right before your answer. Pleading.  _ Begging. _

_ Feel the same way I do. _

_ I do. _

Marriage is nice. And that’s the understatement of the year. 

It’s absolutely wonderful. Hushed, shy whispers of love became bolder. Promises meant to be kept, sacred oaths made. 

Even the dull is exciting as you make him grocery lists during your busy days. You trust him. His attentiveness has never wavered throughout the years.  _ Has it been years already? _

A Brisk Tea always makes it to the cart. You never note it. You never write it down. But when you’re sitting across from him as he sips jade, and you your milk tea, you’re reminded. 

_ Ah, so this is love. _

Wakatoshi is ninety kilograms. Since he was young, he’s always underestimated his true strength. You’d never be able to tell as the pads of his fingers gently comb through your hair. He carefully untangles the strands while you lie in the tub. The life inside you makes it a little hard to stand nowadays. He quietly hums a song you haven’t heard in quite some time. 

The baritones vibrate through his chest and into your heart as you sing along with him. 

_ If a hand could reach out right now _

_ And save my life somehow _

_ I’d face the sun again _

_ As soon as this dreamy night ends _

It dawns on you. You know this song. Very well in fact. It played on repeat on the way to your parents’ upon their first meeting. You don’t remember the first, or third, or fifth time you’ve fallen in love with him, but you slowly add to your neverending tally.

If he were gentle with you, he was even gentler with the baby. He holds her to his chest as if she were the world’s most precious jewel. You were sure that if anyone asked, he’d say that she was nothing less. 

He lets you rest as much as you need and more. Directly after practice, he cradles her in his arms, boldly proclaiming whispers of forever. You love him.

Nights of endless crying and choppy sleeping become bearable with him by your side. One particular night is plagued with unending screeches from your daughter. She’s not hungry, she’s been changed, and offered every teething ring imaginable. The ends of your rope start to fray.

He swoopes her up from your tired arms and hushes you back to sleep. You let exhaustion overtake you in a rare, restful night. 

Early morning’s light beckons you awake, along with an empty side of the bed. You peek into the living and see him there, rocking her in his arms as he paces the room. When the lyrics to the song that bound you replay from his lips, you’ve fallen in love yet again. 

_ This is us.  _

_ This is love. _

_ This is where I sleep. _

You know he loves your daughter, but a new sense of pride ripples through him when she picks up a crayon with her left hand. She’s got his height, but is more inclined towards visual arts. Small stick figures become lifelike oil paintings of your wedding photos. She recreates reality with every stroke and dab of the brush. You’re so proud.

He keeps one of her first “masterpieces” in his wallet, holding on to it as a keepsake since the day she commanded him to at the tender age of five. She thinks it’s annoying. You think it’s cute.

You don’t remember the first time you fell in love with him. But every time you do now, you’re sure it won’t be your last. 


End file.
